Protéger
by TheUltimateGambit91
Summary: AU Remy’s an FBI agent. When his less than traditional antics get him in trouble, he’s put onto a new case that requires more responsibility than he’s used to. Especially when the person he’s protecting doesn't really agree with the notion. ROMY
1. A Lesson of Responsibility

**Protéger **

**By Ultimate Gammy91**

**Disclaimer: Don't own X-Men, they are Marvel property**

**Chapter One – A Lesson of Responsibility **

Remy LeBeau _was_ responsible. Hell, he had more responsibilities than most men twice his age. That was probably why he didn't understand why he was being lectured on what the _Chief_ called his _'lack of responsibility.'_ He restrained himself from rolling his eyes back as the elderly man continued to rant in the usual professional _I-am-wise-and-experienced _tone of voice.

"…It isn't that you're not a good agent, Remy. Truly, you've done better than most of your superiors did in their time in the field. But you have to start being a little more rational…"

Remy mentally rolled his eyes. _"Rational."_ What wasn't rational about his antics? They got the job done, didn't they? Who cares if he happened to know a few men who were members of an elite mob who owed him a favour and got him the dirt on a couple of prioritised murder suspects? The case was closed and shelved before the month was out. That was the important thing wasn't it? Remy would've scowled and interjected by now, but, seeing as it was _the big boss_ and not Victor Creed **(1) **lecturing him about _'how things 'should' be done'_ he kept his mouth shut and his ears open. The elderly Chief Lencherr wasn't exactly withering away and quaking in his boots with age. On the contrary, Eric Lencherr was pushing sixty and _still_ training like any other field agent. Hell, the man had a _six-pack_. He was pushing _sixty_ and had a _six pack._ That alone was something to envy and admire. Besides his perfect health and stamina however, the head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation had a well respected career on and off the field. _No one_ would dare show Eric Lencherr any amount of disrespect.

"…You do get the job done, we both know that's what you've always done but there are rules. And some rules are best to be followed accordingly…"

Remy continued to tap his fingers rhythmically into the arm of the chair. He tried not to grimace as the Chief went in the '_what's by the book' _direction like he _knew _had been coming in the long run. He didn't know exactly how but it always ended up being about running the game _by the rule book_. Not that hunting down elite crime Lords or serial killers was a game per say. It was _serious_ and most of the time an excruciating, exhausting and down right dangerous line of business to be a part of. Remy just happened to be one of those few people who liked to toss the book, hang the rules and play the game with the best hand dealt. Obviously, however, Resident Chief Lencherr didn't seem to agree with his antics too much. The fact that Remy's antics sometimes got the job done quicker than those _rule-abiding _Agents like Scott Summers and other _stick-up-the-ass Federal Agents_ didn't seem to count for much at the moment.

"…I know you don't particularly have much empathy for _traditional antics_. And though I commend you on your_ intuitive_ antics in the past…_"_

Remy's ears caught the lingering in the Chief's last word. The change from the slight sympathetic tone to the voice of professional authority was instantaneously noticed. A light frown marred Remy's face as the elder man sat himself down in his black leather chair. He folded his fingers as he laid them on top of his desk. His silver-blue gaze locked with the unusual pair of red-on-black eyes as he continued in a grave tone of voice.

"But I'm afraid that I cannot allow _one_ Agent to take the rules so lightly in his hands. Not when other peoples lives are so highly at stake."

Remy frowned a little deeper. Bemusement drew obviously across his face as he spoke up for the first time in that half an hour.

"Excuse _moi_, sir?"

Chief Lencherr gave a heavy sigh. Whether it was out of annoyance or sympathy, Remy really couldn't tell at the moment as the man continued to speak.

"Remy LeBeau, you are, by far, one of the best field Agents I've had in this department in years. I'm not about to dismiss you, but I am giving you a word of warning. If you want to keep your job, I suggest you learn from this new assignment."

Remy's frown instantaneously dissolved as shock plastered itself across his face. His eye brows rose high and disappeared into his unruly auburn fringe as he continued to listen, to what felt like, his death sentence.

"Consider this a test of your capability, LeBeau, not in your skills as an Agent but in your willingness to uphold your responsibilities and the rules _we_ set. I'm giving you this solo assignment, to ensure that you _do _learn that…"

He picked up a yellow file and tossed it to the younger man who caught it with agile precision but did not open it. He remained staring at the Chief as he continued his speech.

"You'll be playing bodyguard to a woman under the Witness Protection Program. Pack up your things. You're going to New York city, first thing in the morning."

"_Oh," _Remy thought as a vacant expression spread across his face. "That_ kind of responsibility._"

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_**Yeah Okay, so right now it's not that much but I've been dying to start writing this story for ages. The plot idea has been hanging on my profile page for nearly two years (I think). People have been bugging me to start it sometime, well, here's that sometime! REVIEW! I'll be updating soon!**_

_**And, as for my other stories, they're also in the process of being updated too. They'll be up soon enough too. **_

_**I'd like ya'll to know, that Victor Creed isn't gonna be the bad guy in this. Think of him with the Victor Creed from the Age of Apocalypse ('Exiles' comics). He was AWESOME!! **_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_


	2. Assigned

_**Hey everyone! Thanks for the reviews! Sorry it took a while to get this updated but I've been detouring on ideas for this update. I hope all of my shifting of ideas pays off! **_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_

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_**Chapter Two – Assigned**_

Remy had never stayed at headquarters past sundown since the _very day_ he had joined the force. Of course, given the requirements of the job, that didn't mean he didn't _work_ at late hours. Hell, it was unusual _not_ to work into the night. Most missions he had been assigned to _required_ the cover of nightfall. Tailing leads and sneaking around for information that usually led or came with trouble in the underworld was habitually draped in the dark of night. Thus, it was _not_ often Remy was stuck behind a desk. Even if he _wasn't_ working, he was generally a night owl. He hadn't gone to bed at a reasonable hour since he was a child. Over the years his growing insomnia had turned routine. He took only six or seven hours sleep at the very most. Otherwise, when not on a mission or comfortably hanging around his apartment, he hit the streets with a swagger of a confidence and a taste for excitement. He prowled the best and darkest clubs, bars and other pleasures of the night whenever the FBI badge didn't have to come first. Tonight however, was not such a pleasure-orientated night. He sat bound to a desk chair not by rope or bind but the yellow file that lay opened and spread over the desk top.

Though he had accepted his mission without further questioning, the stale taste of resentment laid bitterly in his mouth. This was, in many respects, like being pushed from a trusted field agent to the role of babysitter. In fact, it basically _was _like that. He just happened to be babysitting a young woman who_ happened_ to be under the Witness Protection Program. He ran a hand down his face, groaning lightly as he returned his gaze back to the sheet of paper in hand. It was her profile page, one without any photos no less. He rolled his eyes at that. Trust the Witness Protection Program to keep information _classified _from another Federal bureau sector. He had nothing to wrap his mind around to recognise _Anna-Marie D'Ancanto_ or _his charge_ as he had dubbed her. At least there was nothing _visible_ he could use. He had every piece of information _about_ his charge. There was a description of her appearance _"Height: 5'8, Weight description: 115lbs Hair colour: auburn-brown hair, white streaks _(he raised an inquisitive brow at that note) _Eye colour: green…"_ and every _itty bitty detail_ about her past all wrapped up neatly in this file. As far as he had read, her parents were both from good money and had left her every penny to their names in their untimely deaths. However, it was not the nature of their deaths that caught his attention first. A single fact that _did_ leave him puzzled was that when he read her _genetic status_ as they so _kindly_ put it these days it told him absolutely _nothing_, only that his charge _was_ a mutant.

_Genetic Status: Mutant, specific details on powers are deemed classified until written approval given _

He frowned slightly as he read over the section a second time. In present times, the United States Government was following a rout towards equal rights for mutants. A decade ago, they had tried _Mutant Registration_, which to put a detailed, bloody matter into simplicity _did not_ go down well. Thus, in a world steadily being torn apart between favouring mutant rights and taking them away, it was surprising for Remy to find a _Government program_ vouching for a mutant's protection even it if was _the_ Witness Protection Program. Maybe he was just being biased. Being a mutant himself often clouded his judgement of what the Government dictated as _right._ He was about to read through the rest of her background and indulge himself in another cup of coffee when the sound of footfall and voice caught his attention. The large office room was set in darkness save for the lamp he had switched on at his desk. However, even in the given dark he could recognise the two figures as they made their way across the hall and towards his desk. They were about a few steps away from the light when both let out low chuckles, followed by a familiar voice. The disbelief in his voice was masked heavily with amusement and mockery as he spoke.

"Well I'll be damned, _Remy LeBeau_ at a _desk_, doing _paperwork_ and-"

The man bent his elbow to catch the time on his wrist watch before he continued.

"-At eight-thirty-three at _night?_ Pete, pinch me, I think I'm hallucinating!"

The two men sniggered at Remy's expense, causing Remy to roll his eyes but a smirk remained forever planted across his face.

"What are y' _deux_ doing here?"

While the first man continued to snigger, the other, _Pete, _turned a grin towards the Cajun and replied.

"Came t' see what Lencherr wanted with you this morning. What was it this time? A few slaps on the wrist for _unorthodox _tactics?"

Pete, or Peter Wisdom, continued to smile as he sat himself down a near-by desk. The other, Lance Alvers, pulled up another chair and sat himself down closer to the desk. Without permission or any care for confidentiality, he reached out for the profile page in Remy's hand. His brown eyes shifted back and forth as he skimmed the top of the page. A few moments later, a frown spread across his face and he turned back to Remy in confusion.

"This is a Witness Protection Program profile, right?"

Remy nodded dryly as he leant back in his chair. Lance and Peter gave each other puzzled looks before turning back to Remy again with new interest. Remy had slipped his hands behind his head as he turned his gaze to the ceiling. He didn't have to wait long before they began their probing.

"LeBeau, What are you doing with a Witness file?"

Remy continued to lean back in his chair as he replied dryly.

"_Dat _would be _mon_ _charge_ f' de next two weeks _mon ami_."

The two men gave unchanged puzzled expressions for about two seconds before one of them spoke. Peter spoke up. His British accent was thick with puzzlement as he replied.

"What do you mean, mate? Why are _you_ being assigned to protecting this woman?"

Lance nodded in agreement. A small smirk had spread across his face as he added with a tone of mockery to his voice.

"Don't they have feds _paid_ and _trained_ to handle these people?"

Remy gave an aggravated sigh as he straightened in his chair. He reached forward and took back the profile page from Lance's grasp before answering them.

"Lencherr dragged _moi _into his office, gave _moi _a good ol' fashioned lecture on _responsibility_ an' _playin' by de rules _den he put dis file in m' hands. Told _moi_ I was leavin' first t'ing in de mornin' an' dat was dat."

Though Peter looked genuinely curious and nodded firmly, Lance gave a loud snort of amusement and grinned as he replied loudly.

"You're playing _babysitter_ to some chick that saw something some crack job didn't like all because you don't _do things by the book?_ Jeez that's fucked up."

Peter rolled his eyes at their comrade's lack of seriousness in the matter. Unlike Lance who had been pulled out of the U.S. Army to work for the force and Remy who had been pulled out of a considerably _darker place_ that he refused to talk about, Peter had been transferred from _merry ol' London_ where he had been a part of the British side of Federal Investigations_._ He took matters a little more seriously than the other two though, to be honest, his record wasn't exactly squeaky clean as far as tactics and mission accomplishments went. This was probably the reason the three of them worked well together. Four years ago, the three of them had been put together into an elite _mutant_ squad focused on dealing with missions that were, to put it nicely, just a little too much to handle for any _human_ FBI team. The idea of one of them being put on such a _trivial _assignment seemed like a low punishment or seriously _unusual_ case. The latter seemed to be what Peter thought of the mission as he took the profile page in hand and, like Lance, skimmed through the brief details displayed. When he was finished, he returned the page and gave Remy a discerning look before speaking. His tone had become stern and grave; strictly business.

"She's a mutant?"

That was enough to wipe off the amused grin across Lance's face, at least, for a moment or two. His brow furrowed with puzzlement for a couple of moments. Clearly, he hadn't read that section. Remy on the other hand just nodded and waited for Peter to interpret further. Peter shook his head, heaving a heavy sigh as he replied. He tapped his fingers against the desk side as he continued. It was a clear sign of the man's unsettled thoughts towards the assignment.

"If you're being assigned to protect a _mutant_ under the program, then I'd say this isn't just a babysitting job _or_ a _foul card_ for your tactics. Do you know her background?"

"Yeah, what she do to get tucked away by _these_ Feds? Dump a crime Lord for one of his _thugs_?"

Though Remy smirked at Lance's mockery of the matter, he did look around for the page with the details about his charge's _reasons_ for entering the program. It didn't take long but what he began to read was a far cry from a girl falling into the wrong crowd with a crime Lord. He lost a hint of his composure as his unusual coloured eyes widened in surprise. Both Peter and Lance had seen the look across his face and began to question him immediately.

"Well? What's the case, LeBeau? Did she have a little _love spat_ with a crime lord or what?"

Remy shook his head as he returned his gaze to meet their questioning faces.

"_Non. _De _femme_ (woman) witnessed de murder of her parents."

Lance raised a sceptical brow.

"And that's enough to get tucked under the Program's wing? Man, they _really _lowered the limits. _Double homicides_, sure its horrible stuff but what's the big deal?"

While Remy raised a brow at Lance, Peter ignored their friend's lack of seriousness and turned to Remy.

"Who were they?"

Remy skimmed over the details as he replied, reading them aloud.

"Owen and Pricilla D'Ancanto are her parents. Madame D'Ancanto was a well respected doctor in Mississippi _et_ Mister D'Ancanto worked in our Government's Defence Sector."

"That explains why she's under the program's protection but what was he doing?"

Remy shrugged as he continued to read through the page of details.

"It doesn't say anyt'ing in detail, jus' dat it was classified stuff. _Mais_, I t'ink he was doin' somet'ing t' do wit' mutants."

"What make you say that?"

Remy handed the page to Peter as he replied.

"He was a mutant activist. Says in dere dat he put a lot o' money into helpin' mutants in de 80's. _Mais_, no one knew about him b'cause he donated money through his wife's _et_ her family. "

Peter read through the page quickly, his eyes darting back and forth again as he remained silent. Lance on the other hand, gave a puzzled frown as he ran a hand through his untidy brown hair. When he questioned Remy, his voice was marred with an undertone of annoyance that was no doubt towards the program's tactics.

"Aren't you supposed to know _why_ you need to protect this chick? Why keep that classified if _you_ need to know about it?"

Remy shrugged as he began to shuffle the pages neatly back into the file.

"Dey probably t'ink it's unnecessary, given de circumstances."

Lance frowned.

"What circumstances?"

"De _homme_ who killed de D'Ancantos has been behind bars f' de past fourteen years."

Before either could begin to question and drag the conversation further, Remy took the last page from Peter's hands and picked up his tan trench coat from the back of the chair. He was slipping it on when Lance spoke up.

"Hey, where are you going?"

Remy smirked as he tucked the file into the depths of his trench coat.

"I got a plane t' catch t'morrow. I'll see y'_ hommes_ when I get back from _babysitting_."

With that, he turned on his heal and left them to their own business. They remained their in silence until Remy was gone for sure before Lance turned to Peter and spoke.

"You think he'll have t' do much?"

Peter shrugged, his gaze set on the number dial above the elevator as the numbers spiralled downwards.

"We'll see."

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_**Bet you all have a load of questions now. Next chapter we take a turn down the path of the past and some more questions will be answered. **_

_**Review!**_

_**Some translations to remember:**_

_**Mon – My**_

_**Moi – Me**_

_**Mais – But**_

_**Oui – Yes**_

_**Merde – Shit**_

_**Homme – man**_

_**Femme – woman**_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_


	3. Hello Mondays

_**Hey everyone! Sorry for the wait, I've been planning out more of this story and updating other things so, yeah not much else to say but that.**_

_**-Gams**_

_****_

**Chapter Three – Hello Mondays **

_The small gap between the frame and the door allowed a streak of light to escape the bedroom and into the darkness of the closet. The little girl pressed her face to the small gap as the room came into focus. Trembling, her emerald eyes moved anxiously over her bedroom as her heart hammered and beat frantically in her ears. To anyone the room was like any other little girl's bedroom what with its white four-poster bed, the canopy overhead and the piles of toys spread across the floor. _

_Except for one thing._

_A deafening explosive sound followed by the heavy thud of a fallen weight against the floor caused a violent tremor in the eight year-old's body as her heart became lodged in her throat. She hadn't realised she had made a sound until heavy foot-fall came frightfully close to the closet door..._

_The door swung open in slow motion... _

_**Morning, New York City**_

Marie D'ancanto sat upright in her bed with the covers wrapped messily about her legs and gasping for breath. Bathed in cold sweat, she took in the familiar surroundings of her bedroom with a growing sense of relief. The haunting memories faded back into the dark of her mind as her rapid breathing calmed. She eased back into the soft comfort of pillows while a deep-held sigh slipped through her lips. She closed her eyes a moment as she whispered.

"This mus' beh God's way of sayin' its Monday, tahme t' get off your ass..."

Her emerald eyes opened and drifted down to her right hand...that was clenching the end of a handgun. She clutched it firmly in the assumed pistol hold and checked if the safety was still on even though she knew she hadn't turned it off. Sighing again, now more irritated that the day had already begun, she wriggled over to the side of the bed and pulled open the bedside table draw and placed the handgun in its designated place. She rolled back to the centre of the bed and closed her eyes on last time.

"Ah _hate _Mondays."

She rolled out of bed and stepped onto the cool floorboards. She headed towards the bathroom with another sigh. The memories of her childhood locked securely in the deep of her mind.

XXX

_**Meanwhile...**_

Remy LeBeau gave a disgruntle sigh as he let his duffle bag slip to the floor. His _secured and assigned _flat was a very open space, even with the scarce amount of furniture about the room. Not to mention _cold_ and smelt vaguely of cleaning detergent and bleach. His nose scrunched irritably at the smell. Being a warm blooded Cajun, the New York Autumn air was already a nuisance. But the smells in this loft reminded him too much of the sterile smell of hospitals. And he _hated _hospitals probably more than he hated the cold Northern climate. Though the field agent in him was trained to withstand _much worse_ climates, it was a pet peeve and it only added to his already fouling mood. He wasn't exactly any more thrilled about playing babysitter to one of the Government's _specially protected wards _than he had been at headquarters.

He released a calming breath and swiftly dropped the duffle bag on the King size bed. _Back on track LeBeau. Y' will 'ave a lot more t' be pissed about if y' mess dis job up. _ With those consoling thoughts, he began to unpack and placed each individual article on the bed. Each piece sat along an invisible grid while his mind imprinted each piece by habit into his memory like pieces of a puzzle. Most people _in service_ were trained to be precise, to ensure they took notice of even the _slightest_ of details. But for him, it was an obsessive compulsion practiced since childhood. Like clock-work he manually began to check each article. His nimble fingers tapped against the six packs of playing cards before counting the other six he'd hidden on his person. Satisfied, he reached for the ten inch silver cylinder. He twisted the cylinder between his hands, and it extended to a full-length bo-staff.

Stepping away from the bed, he twisted it expertly between his hands and fingers in a swift routine of movements before sheathing it back to original state. He had donned this unusual weapon since he was no more than a _pup _on the streets of New Orleans. He passed the concealed staff between his hands before placing it neatly beside the decks of playing cards. He checked his few spare changes of clothes, his communicator and phone, identification cards etc before lastly coming to the only _standard weapon _he was sanctioned to keep on him at all times.

Not that he _needed _it.

He picked up the handgun gently and turned it expertly between his hands. Though he rarely used it, it was a handy backup should his mutant ability fail him in some way.

Not that it had.

His superior, Victor Creed, had made a routine out of threatening to give him a reason to use it when, as a rookie, he tried to go without the _standard issue._ And so with Creed's voice nagging in the back of his head, Remy tucked the gun in one of the sheaths strapped around his shoulders and straightened his trench coat to conceal it.

"Waste of bullets, Creed. Waste of bullets."

"_Rogue! Come on! We're going to be late! Hello-!"_

The doorbell rang incessantly as Rogue hurriedly made her way to the door calling;

"Hold ya horses Kitty, we've got a good half hour before the _Ice Queen_ gets in..."

_Rogue _flicked the two locks on the door and let it swing open as a petite brunette stumbled inside and leant against the door, flushed and panting to catch her breath. Her long-strapped purse draped off her shoulder as she blew a stray lock of hair out of her face.

"I had to _run_ all the way here from the bus stop because the _S-O-B_ bus driver couldn't wait ten seconds for me to get to the doors! Like, that's just so ridiculous! _Ten seconds!_ I swear New York has the worst transportation system, like, ever-!"

Rogue could only chuckle and roll her eyes as her friend continued to rattle on about the atrocity of the New York transport system as she downed the last of her coffee and slipped on her black heels. Kitty Pryde was a bright, sweet girl, fresh out of high school no less and already making her way through university. She had been hired by the Worthington and Frost Architecture firm as a paid intern and had taken a shining to Rogue since joining. But as bright as her resume and work made her out to be, there was little to keep her quiet for more than a few minutes. Rogue hadn't meant to be friends with Kitty initially but when an intern gets her ass handed to her by the _resident Ice Queen _of the office, someone had to lend a sympathetic hand. Kitty hadn't been far from her side since being hired some twelve months ago. And despite her better judgement and reasons, Marie didn't mind. Kitty, despite her _ranting and worrying_ tendencies, was her little piece of normalcy.

"_Normal people have friends. Why shouldn't ah?"_

Marie slipped her brown leather jacket on and slipped a navy woven scarf off the coat rack as she followed Kitty out of the apartment door.

She locked the door's two locks, un-locked them and re-locked them for good measure. The action made her scoff at her earlier thoughts.

"Because ya not normal Marie D'Ancanto. Ya not normal."

She checked both ends of the corridor before making her way towards the elevator doors where Kitty stood. The Valley Girl checked her watch twice in the time it took her to get to the doors.

"Ahh…we are, like, so going to miss the train…"

Kitty anxiously stared up at the digital numbers as they changed at snail pace. Rogue rolled her eyes at her friend's frantic behaviour.

"Kit, would ya calm down already? Ya makin' _me _nervous."

Kitty tried to calm her expression but it only looked strained rather than anxious. Rogue couldn't help a chuckle at her expense, which only caused her to pout and scowl.

"It's not like _you _have to worry about getting Emma Frost's dry cleaning returned. Warren Worthington doesn't even, like, ask you to get him a coffee!"

It was then Rogue noticed the plastic-cased dry cleaning draped over Kitty's arm. Rogue raised an incredulous brow.

"_You _are picking up her _dry cleaning? _Kit, why would yah agree to that?"

Kitty sported a meek expression as she adjusted the heavy load to rest on her opposite arm. The elevator punctually chimed as the doors slid open. Kitty made sure the clothes didn't drape on the floor, only it looked like she was trying to carry precious cargo and not her evil boss's dry cleaning.

"I, like, didn't exactly _agree_ to do it- it just, well, _happened._ She caught me off-guard yesterday before she left and asked me to get the invoices ready for the Parker deal and some other documents and like, totally slipped her dry cleaning in between! I, like, didn't get the chance to say no!"

They had crossed the lobby hallway and made it to the key-access-only doors when it happened. Kitty was still explaining her extra secretarial duties when one of her high heels got caught in the doorframe causing her to trip. She would have topped down the concrete stairs if a man who had been making his way up said stairs had not reached out and caught her before the pavement did. He had her upright at the bottom of the stairs within moments.

"Y' alright _petite_?"

Kitty nodded, still awestruck by what had just occurred. A flush of pink painted her cheeks as she began to thank the man profusely for catching her only to darken when she realised that the man _happened _to be a handsome saviour to boot.

"Thank you _so _much! I like, don't know what made me trip but- _oh my god Frost's dry cleaning!" _

It sat in a heap at the bottom of the stairs but what otherwise completely untouched. Kitty picked it up gingerly as one would an injured pet before heaving a sigh of relief that there was no damage done. The man who had helped her gave them a passing smile and a tip of an imaginary hat before continuing on his way into the building. Kitty and Rogue watched him disappear before turning to look at each other with mirrored expressions of exasperated relief. Rogue draped an arm over Kitty's still-trembling shoulders as they made their way down the street.

"That was a lucky one huh?"

Kitty heaved another sigh between her pursed lips.

"Embarrassing more like it. That guy was like, totally hot and I looked like such a klutz in front of him."

Rogue turned her head to look back at her building only to find no charming stranger in sight. She shrugged it off.

"It could be worse."

Kitty suddenly stopped in her tracks. Her expression horrified.

"Kit, what's the matter?"

Kitty turned slowly to face her, her expression more anxious than ever as she held up her wrist to show the time on her watch.

"We missed the train."

Rogue swore before they both took off at a fast pace.

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**Short n' sweet for now. Review please!**

**P.S. In case no one's noticed, I've changed my pen-name. It's 'TheUltimateGambit91' now ;) **

**-Gams **


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